


Attractions

by broadwayturtle



Series: Of Mice and Men: Postscript [2]
Category: Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
Genre: Angst, Drama & Romance, M/M, Original Character(s), Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-07-24 13:12:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7509730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broadwayturtle/pseuds/broadwayturtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of escalating dares leads to an odd relationship between a gentle giant and a fiery curl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY so I know that I _personally_ tend to shy away from fanfics with OCs in them and I'm guessing a lot of people do too, idk, but I mean, if you've gotten this far that means you've given it a chance, so thank you, you're super rad.
> 
> ANYWAY I couldn't for the life of me picture ANY of the characters falling in love with Curley bc they all fucking hate him, so I made my own. xD Also this chapter doesn't involve a dare, oops. But the next one will, I promise.
> 
> Also I gave "the boss" a name lol, and did some research into Tyler and Soledad, and came to the conclusion that the ranch is named after the family and not the city, so that's why his last name is what it is. I could be wrong, but I'm too lazy to change it now, hah.
> 
> OH RIGHT, and the title is a placeholder for now, I might change it later. But for now it's the best one I've got.
> 
> Update: Title changed. Sorry it's taking so long, but I promise I'm working on the second chapter, and also on my other fics, aaaaaa.

The first day Eric Waters came to work at Tyler Ranch, he almost got fired.

He'd just finished working for the day and was about to sit down to play poker with his new coworkers, when a small man with wild hair sauntered into the bunkhouse. He stood in front of the doorway, arms crossed, smirking as he scanned the room.

"Heard there was a new guy." He zeroed in on Eric as Candy scrambled to answer him.

"Hi Curley," was all he managed to get out. Curley sneered.

"Wasn't talkin' to you, No-Hand."

"Oh. Sorry, Curley."

Candy glanced nervously at Eric, relaxing his shoulders when given a nod that said he got the message. See, one of the first things out of Candy's mouth was that the boss's son was a cranky son-of-a-bitch, and not to be messed with. A smart man would avoid making him sore, he said, if he wanted to keep his job.

Eric was _not_ a smart man.

He stood up and smiled warmly at Curley.

"Yeah, that'd be me." Eric walked over to shake his hand, but found that their difference in height overwhelmed him as he blurted out possibly the _worst_ thing a guy could say to Curley.

"Jesus _Christ_ , you're tiny." He stared with wide, awestruck eyes, oblivious to the danger he was in.

" _Excuse_ me?" Curley clenched his jaw, glaring up at the man nearly twice his size. The room fell dead silent as Curley's muscles visibly tensed, like a coil ready to spring any moment.

A smart man would apologize and do his best to defuse the situation right then. To his credit, Eric did try.

"Oh, sorry. It's just that you're so small. Caught me by surprise."

Eric noticed that Curley's face was turning red and his hands had started opening and closing into tight fists, but he couldn't help but think that was adorable.

"I'm gonna give you one more chance to take that back," Curley warned in a quiet, controlled growl, shaking with rage. "Else I'm gonna beat the shit outta you, an' I don't give a _damn_ if my han' breaks again."

Eric simply stared blankly before doing what was _definitely_ the worst thing a guy could do to Curley. He grinned and patted Curley's head.

"My bad, li'l man."

It was at that moment that Curley let out a furious scream before punching Eric hard in the stomach. Winded and confused, he just stood there doubled over as Curley punched and kicked him, trying to block him as best he could.

"Whoa--ow!--hey, what'd I do?" Curley answered Eric by kicking him in the knee, taking advantage of Eric's painfully disoriented state to shove him down onto the floor. He started to kick him again, but Eric's self-defense instincts kicked in and he dragged Curley down with him. A couple punches and Eric was in control, flipping their position so that he was sitting on top of a squirming Curley, pinning his wrists to the floor.

" _Get_ off me, you stupid son-of-a-bitch."

"Well, no, 'cause then you'll just hit me again. Now, listen. I guess I was rude. I understand a guy might feel real down about bein' short--"

"SAY THAT AGAIN, I DARE YOU--"

"But that ain't a reason to be throwin' punches at ever'body."

Candy chimed in, frowning thoughtfully. "Well...to be fair, ya did call him small like three times."

"...Oh. Right." Eric furrowed his eyebrows in genuine confusion. "Well, I didn't mean it as a bad thing. I think it's cute." Curley's squirming intensified as he heard that last word, but it was no use with a giant moose of a man sitting on top of him.

"I'LL FUCKIN' KILL YOU! I'LL FUCKIN' KILL YOU I SWEAR TO GOD--" Curley stopped just as he saw his father walk in. They stared at each other in surprise for a loaded handful of seconds, after which the boss broke the silence.

"What the _hell's_ goin' on in here?"

"...He's--he's pickin' on me, pa."

Bill Tyler sighed deeply, crossing his arms. "What'd he do, son?"

"He called me short..."

"Did you call him short?" Bill raised an eyebrow.

"Um. Yessir."

"An' he hit you?"

"Yessir."

At that, Bill let out an exhausted sigh. He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose like he'd suddenly gotten a headache. "Listen--what was your name again?"

"Eric. Sir."

"Eric." Bill ran that same hand through his hair. "Listen, I'm glad you held back. I seen a lotta guys beat the shit outta Curley and you're a big 'un, so I know you coulda done much worse. But you can't go 'round makin' funna folks like that, 'specially my own son. You keep on doin' that and you'll be gettin' into fights more'n you're workin' and that ain't no good. Next time it happens, you're canned." From the corner of his eye, Eric saw Curley grin smugly at him.

"Tha's fair, sir."

"An' _you_ \--" he pointed at Curley. "You check that temper. I can't fire _ever'body_ you can't get along with." Curley's grin faded into a childish pout as he looked down and away.

"...Yes sir."

"Eric, get off 'im". Eric complied, mumbling a quiet "I'm awful sorry, really" to Curley as he did. His only reply was a baffled, disdainful frown, the universal face for _"You're crazy."_

"Lemme see your han'." Bill's voice softened as he outstretched his own hand. Curley shuffled towards him, letting his bad hand rest in his father's. Bill gently pressed all over Curley's hand with his thumb. "Tell me if it hurts." Curley shook his head, then winced when Bill pressed on one of his knuckles.

"Ow."

Bill sighed that tired sigh again, letting go of Curley's hand. "Been a year already, but you keep gettin' in fights, how you think it's gonna heal like that?" Curley lowered his eyes in shame. "Now, this time it wasn't your fault, but you ain't puttin' nothin' over on me no more, boy. I seen you start fights an' then play dumb like you wasn't the first one to swing. Well I can't save you no more. I need workers, god dammit."

Curley shoved his hands in his pockets, a light blush forming on his cheeks. "Yes sir," he muttered in child-like obedience. Eric stared at him, mesmerized. He really _was_ adorable when he wasn't throwing punches.

"Now come on. We got work to do." Bill rested his hand on his son's shoulder, ushering him out. Just before they got to the doorway, Bill yelled his last warning casually, still walking and looking forward.  "And you watch yourself too, new guy!"

"Yes sir!" Eric yelled back with child-like enthusiasm.

In the careful silence that followed as the room waited for the boss to leave, Eric's eyes settled on how perfectly round Curley's ass was, and how amazing it looked in those high-waisted pants. Quietly he muttered an awestruck "God _damn_ ", entirely certain that he'd just fallen in love.


	2. Drinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric and Curley get to know each other better.

Eric felt so bad for hurting Curley's feelings that he spent the rest of the week sulking, and the next week asking around about how to make it up to him.

_"What kinda stuff does he like? Does he like cake? Is he a picky eater? What's the best thing to give somebody who's mad at you? No, not flowers, it's a man. What do you mean, it's weird to give stuff to a man? Why's it weird? Why're you laughing? ...Does Curley like hats?"_

These were all questions Eric asked, but no one ever seemed to give a helpful answer. The most they’d say was either some variation of "I got no idea what Curley likes an' I don't care" or hysterical laughter followed by "Jesus Christ! Yer a crazy bastard, Waters."

He was just about ready to give up when he realized he'd forgotten to ask the one person who had _definitely_ been around long enough to know at least _one_ thing about Curley. Despite being exhausted from having bucked barley all day, Eric walked to the canteen with a spring in his step, quickly grabbing his food before sliding in next to Candy.

"Hi!"

"Hi, Eric." Candy smiled warmly, already accustomed to Eric's enthusiasm.

"I got a question." Candy nodded.

"Shoot."

"Do you know 'bout anything Curley likes?"

"Hmm." Candy scratched his grey stubble, wracking his brain for any small thing he might know about Curley. He never paid much attention to such an unpleasant person, but the eager hope in Eric's eyes made him determined to find something. Finally, after quite a bit of silence and pushing at his food, a memory rose from the fog.

"Y'know, I think he likes that expensive whiskey. Ever' time he drinks with us he's always makin' them faces sayin' how bad it is. Don' know what brand he likes though."

At that, Eric's lower lip wobbled in a suppressed grin. He chewed and swallowed the food he'd stuffed his face with, then let himself smile so wide his face hurt. He hugged Candy so tightly he had to apologize for cracking the poor man’s back, then rushed to the bunkhouse to daydream and plan out his apology.

When the boys came back after spending the evening at Susy's, they made fun of Eric for wanting to impress Curley so badly, but he didn't care. For the rest of the month he saved up his money, using only some of it to investigate the nearby cities for places with fancy liquor. He managed to find a highly esteemed store two cities over, and after his first paycheck finally rolled in, he proudly slammed his cash on the counter and sauntered out with the bottle, whistling happily.

\--

The very next day was a Saturday. Eric had the whole day free, but spent most of it pacing around the bunkhouse and fiddling with his cap.

 _It's been a month. Does he even remember? Is it really so weird givin' another man a present? What if he thinks I'm a queer? I mean, I_ am _a queer, but what if he figures it out and never wants to see me again? What if Candy was wrong? What if he’s right but I bought the wrong kind? What if he ain't home? What if he is but he don't open the door? What if--_

Eric checked the clock on the wall.

_5:00pm._

_Fuck it._

Eric threw the cap onto his bed in a fit of annoyance, gently kicking the leg of his bunk before grabbing Curley's gift with both hands. He made sure his grip on the bottle was secure before he picked it up, mumbling that he'd "cry if this damn thing drops itself." He stomped out of the building before abruptly stopping, stomping back in, putting his hat back on, and walking out again.

A handful of minutes later Eric was at Curley's front door, bottle of whiskey clutched carefully to his chest. He took a deep breath. Lifted his free hand to knock. Hesitated. Cursed himself for being so nervous. Hesitated again. Finally he mustered up the courage to knock twice. He really hoped Curley was home--

The door opened just wide enough for Curley's perpetually annoyed face to peek through, but slammed loudly right when he realized it was Eric. Eric jumped at the suddenness.

"...Curley? Hey, listen, I'm real sor--"

"Get off my _porch,_ asshole _._ " It was muffled by the door, but just loud enough to be heard. Eric guessed Curley’d had a lot of opportunities to perfect this.

"But I got you sump’n'."

Curley yanked the door wide open so fast Eric worried he’d hurt himself. He made a mental note that bribes were the way to go with him.

"What you got?" He raised an eyebrow lazily, trailing his eyes down until they settled on the bottle in Eric's hands. "Whiskey?" He didn't wait for Eric to answer. "Well, fine. I forgive you. Give it here." Eric obliged, shocked that a bottle of liquor was all it took to appease this man who'd threatened to kill him just a few weeks prior. He stood there awkwardly, wringing his hands as Curley stared him down.

"Well come on in then, dumbass."

"Really?" Eric grinned, ecstatic.

"Get your stupid ass in here 'fore I change my gotdamn mind."

Eric didn't have to be told twice.

He shut the door behind them, taking his cap off to fidget with it again. They passed through a small foyer with a coat rack in one corner, and a succulent on a step stool in the other. Eric ran a nervous hand through dirty blond hair, noticing how organized and pristine everything was. Sure, there was expensive-looking furniture, and there were neatly filled bookshelves, and there was even an end table with a half-read book lying open on it, but something about the place felt...cold. Eric was dragged out of his reverie when Curley snapped his fingers in his face impatiently.

"Hey. Dumbass. Set down."

"Oh. Right." Eric sat down on a soft couch, still fidgeting with his cap. As he waited for Curley to come back, he noticed a light coating of dust on the table in front of him. He ran a finger across it, rubbing the dust between it and his thumb. _Is Curley even in this room much? Why’s it dusty? And anyway, shouldn't there be a maid to take care of it? Unless he can’t afford it, but ain’t ranch owners s’posed to be rich?_ Eric sat there staring at his open hand, thinking so hard he was no longer thinking at all. Once again Curley snapped him out of it, this time by lightly kicking Eric in the shin.

"Hey. _Dumbass_. Wake up." Eric jolted slightly, looking up to see Curley holding out a shot of whiskey to him. "Thought I'd let you take some seein' as how you bought it."

Eric's eyes widened. Curley didn't seem like the type to share, but Eric wasn't complaining. "Uh, sure," he shrugged as he reached for the glass. "I s'pose I'd like to see what my money tastes like." Curley let out a small "heh" at that before sitting down next to Eric. There was a short interval of comfortable silence.

Well--comfortable for Eric anyway. For Curley, it was agony.

_When's the last time I had guests over and it wasn't me askin' first? Why's this guy like me so much? Nobody else likes me. I don' know why. Does he want sump’n from me? Nah. Too dumb. Well, why's he like me then? Jesus Christ. And how do I keep him likin' me? Nah, he prob’ly wants sump’n outta me--"_

"So uh," Curley started, then stopped, then started again, fidgeting with the diamond-shaped patterns on the whiskey glass. Suddenly the awkward hesitation in his voice burst into the bubbling frustration he always got when he tried to talk to people. "Why the hell'd you do this for? You want sump'n I got? Money? Fancy stuff? A pay raise? 'Cause you ain't gettin' it, I'll tell ya that." _Shit. Shit, shit, shit, god damn it. That came out all wrong. What if he really is nice, now I look like a bad guy, why's this always happen, whyn’t you ever keep your mouth shut--_

"Huh? No. I just felt bad for makin' funna you, that's all. Even if I didn' mean to." Eric drank his shot of whiskey, and Curley followed suit. "Damn, that goes down smooth."

"It does, don't it?" Curley slumped down into the couch, vaguely aware of Eric's arm splayed behind him. He still hadn't looked up from the glass. "...You sure you ain't tryin' to put nothin' over me?" He looked up just in time to see a smile spread across Eric's face. His eyes showed it the most, squinting at the corners with a warm, gentle contagiousness. He laughed, though even that felt warm and welcoming and put Curley's mind at ease.

"Nah. I don't hang around folks I don't like. I don't got it in me. I didn't like you, I'd tell you."

"Oh. Okay." Curley's eyes darted back down to his fidgeting hands. A delicate frown formed on Curley's face as he struggled to speak for several moments. Finally he looked back up at Eric with pleading, searching eyes. "Do you...wanna stay a little longer then?"

Eric looked mildly but pleasantly surprised at that. "Well, sure. If you want me to."

Curley poured them both another shot, clicking his tongue in annoyance even though he was ecstatic. "'Course I want you to, dumbass. That's why I ast you. Don't make it weird."

Eric laughed again. He wondered idly if they were going to finish the bottle in one sitting, but just before he could ask, Curley got up and put it away. "This ain't the kinda stuff you drink just to get plastered. You gotta enjoy it," he'd said pridefully as he walked away. When he came back, there was a different bottle of liquor in his hand. He slammed it down on the table, grinning smugly. "But _this_. _This_ is the kinda shit you get drunk with."

They drank another four rounds, chatting idly in between gulps. As they spoke, an idea slowly clicked into Eric's mind. He wasn't sure where it would go, but it was at least worth a try.

"...You wanna play Truth or Dare?" Eric turned his head to gauge Curley's reaction, which was to stare at him with heavy sarcasm.

"What are you, five?" Eric snorted.

"Well...fine...I guess I shoulda known you'd be yella." Curley made like he was going to say no out of sheer defiance, but his pride won over. He took the bait. The corners of Eric's lips twitched as he fought to contain his smile.

"Fuck you, I ain't yella. I can do it. I ain't sayin' I can't do it. I'm just sayin' it's dumb. Christ."

Eric gave up on stifling his grin. "All right. You wanna go first?"

"Fuck you, you ast me, now I _gotta_ go first." Eric snorted again, unable to conceal his laughter. To his surprise, Curley laughed along.

"All right. Truth or Dare?"

"Dare," Curley answered boldly.

"Mmkay. I dare you..." Eric rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb as he thought. "Hmm. I dare you to answer the question I'm 'bout to ask you."

Curley rolled his eyes dramatically. "That's Truth, but sure. Shoot."

"What's your favorite color?"

"Blue. Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"Dare you to do a cartwheel."

There was a long pause before Eric answered.

"I mean, I can prob'ly do it. I ain't even that drunk."

"Do another one then." Curley poured Eric a... _generous_ shot, cackling as Eric's eyebrows shot up.

"Tha's a whole damn glass!"

" _Dare_ you." The mischievous glint in Curley's eyes sent Eric's heart racing. He tried to play it cool by rolling his shoulders confidently.

"'S fine, it ain't like I'm gonna get drunk that easy anyway." Eric chugged the whiskey down, grimacing at the taste when he was done. He then strolled to the other end of the room and tried to do the cartwheel.

He flipped, and…

...Hit the hardwood floor with a great _thud,_ landing flat on his back. It winded him for a second, but the lack of breath soon turned into uncontrollable laughter for the both of them.

"...Did I mention--heheh--I can't do cartwheels?"

"Wh-what?" Curley let out a couple of high-pitched "ha"s followed by a coughing fit. "Why--why would you--do it then?"

"I don'--I don' know, I thought maybe this time--" Eric rolled into the fetal position, clutching his aching abdomen. Curley had hunched over too, head resting on his knees as they both hooted and howled and shook with laughter. They went on like this for a while, feeding off one another's giggles until they were too tired to laugh any longer.

"Hey, Curley." Eric croaked, eyes billsfully closed. "'S your turn."

"Shit, yeah. Uhh, dare."

"Dare you to do as much as I did."

"Only if you do another one too."

"No fair!"

"Hell yeah it's fair, yer taller, you gotta drink more to get drunk the same as a small guy."

"Haha, fine." Eric grunted as he sprung himself back upright, then trudged back to the couch. They followed through on their mutual dare, grimacing at the taste once they were done.

"Truth or dare?" Curley asked. He slung his elbows onto the back of the couch, where Eric's arms were as well. His left arm was touching Eric's right. He didn't mind.

"Hmm. Dare."

"Dare you...to..." _Damn. It’s hittin’ me. My head’s all whacked._ "Uhhhh. What's your favorite color?"

Curley could have sworn Eric stared into his eyes for _ages_ before answering. "...I dunno. Brown maybe. Same as your--uh--yours." Curley hummed quietly at that, letting his eyes droop closed. It took him a moment to register that there was anything wrong with Eric’s answer.

“...Wait, mine’s blue,” Curley slurred.

“What’d I say?”

“Brown.”

“Oh.”

Curley snickered. “Yooooou’re drunk.”

“Says you.”

Curley snickered some more before waving his hand dismissively, his eyes still closed. “All right, your turn.” He slid down to rest his head on the back of the couch.

"Dare you to walk in a straight line." He could hear the grin in Eric's voice despite being unable to see it.

"...Fuck," Curley cursed under his breath. The alcohol had finally set in, and the bastard knew it. Still, he wobbled up off the couch, trying to use the planks of hardwood as a guide. After about four crooked steps, Curley's knees buckled underneath him. He would have fallen if not for Eric's strong arms holding his torso.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

Curley meant to peel Eric's hands off of his body, but it had been so damn _long_ since he'd touched anyone at all that he was starved for it, he needed to feel someone else's warmth, he needed to rest his hands on someone else's like he was doing now. They lingered in that position, just holding each other, until Eric made it weird by resting his chin on Curley's shoulder.

"Get offa me, ya fuckin' queer." Eric snorted and obliged as another laughing fit came over them.

"Ah, man. Whose turn again?" Curley asked he wiped a tear from his eye.

"Yours," Eric slurred from the floor. He was lying down again, this time with Curley by his side. "Truth." Curley seemed to think long and hard about what kind of question he was going to ask, but it still took Eric by surprise.

"...Do--" Curley turned his head to face Eric, frowning with that fragile vulnerability once again. "Do you know why the boys don't like me?"

_Shit. How'm I s'posed to answer that?_

"Uh, you sure you wanna hear it?"

"Yeah. I been thinkin' about it lately. And I think it's 'cause my dad's the boss."

"Well...kinda." The words felt heavy coming out of Eric's mouth. "I mean, I like you. But the rest of 'em, well...they think you're mean. And you fight a lot. And they say you're dirty, and rude and bossy. And you don't never say sorry for nothin' you did wrong."

"...Oh."

"Sorry, tha’s just what they said, not me--"

"Nah, I...I guess maybe it's true. I do fight a lot. I'm just a stubborn sonofabitch, tha’s all."

"I like you though, I really do."

"Thanks."

"...You wanna call it a day?"

"Yeah,” Curley replied, quiet and pensive. A short interval of silence fell upon them, in which Eric stared at Curley and Curley stared at the ceiling. “Dare you to help me up."

"Pfft, sure. Sorry again. I shoulda lied." Eric grunted as he lifted himself up off the floor, then helped Curley up as well.

"Nah, 's fine. I wanted the truth.” Curley sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Damn. I can't stand. My legs is too weak." Without being asked or dared to, Eric wrapped an arm around Curley, letting the smaller man lean heavily against him as he directed Eric to the bedroom. Once there, he did a trust fall onto it, sighing.

"Fun day," Curley mumbled idly, already feeling the tugs of sleep. He didn't even care that his legs were still hanging off the bed.

"Want me to take off your shoes?"

"Mm." Curley enjoyed the long silence this time, enjoyed hearing the gentle whisper of his boots being unlaced and tugged off his feet, enjoyed hearing the gradual deepening of his own breaths as he started to lose consciousness.

"...Hey, Curley?"

"Mmmmnnnnnyeah?" He slurred.

"Whyn't you try hangin' with the boys tomorrow? We're gonna have ourselves a li'l bonfire an' tell stories, maybe play some horseshoes."

"Mmn, sure. Why not. Long as you're there it'll be nice probably." Curley couldn't see it, but Eric's face lit up like a Christmas tree, especially when Curley started sliding off the bed.

"All right. See ya tomorrow," Eric murmured, gently lifting Curley's legs up onto the bed. He let himself out, grabbing his cap on the way, making sure to lock the doors so Curley could sleep safe and sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!!!! Sorry I took so long!! Oh man, I love writing these boys, they're a riot. Give it another chapter or so tho, and it'll get angsty, because I just can't help myself. _(sobs)_ Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy it, I worked really hard on it and I've been thinking about these boys nonstop. I promise I'll get back to Slorge, but for now I am officially obsessed with Ericurl. x)


	3. Kissing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get drunk at the bonfire. Curley tags along, as promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wELP, looks like I have a habit of updating after half a year or more lol. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I do intend to finish both this and Exceptions and all my fics, I just have a lot of trouble defying my tiny, exceptionally slow and depressed snail nature. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! See you in another six months, lol!
> 
> ....*crie*
> 
> Also, shout out to lykxxn, who always bookmarks my OMAM stuff. You the real MVP. B')

Curley awoke the next morning with a hangover from hell and a nagging feeling that something important was supposed to happen. He went through the day in a cranky haze, screwing up the paperwork multiple times. He endured the lectures that ensued, though with every mistake and every reprimand the crankiness intensified. When the work day was over, he was glad to leave the harsh indoor lights to walk out under the darkening sky.

Curley had just settled into the couch and kicked off his shoes when he heard someone knock at the door. Groaning, he dragged a hand down his face, hoping whoever-it-was would go away. A brief quiet gave way to a few more knocks, this time spaced out and tentative. Though he desperately wanted to stay on the couch, the nagging feeling compelled him to drag his shoes back on and shuffle his tired legs all the way to the door.

"Hi!"

Curley squinted in confusion.

"...Eric?"

"Yeah! You comin' after all?"

"What? Where?" Eric's grin faded to match Curley's baffled frown.

"Well...to the bonfire. With the boys. You said you'd come, remember?"

Curley frowned harder, looking up at the doorframe as he racked his brain for the memory.

"...Ohhhh. Yesterday, right? When we was plastered?" Eric nodded sheepishly, fiddling with his cap. Curley wondered idly how such a large man could be so harmless and childlike.

"Ahhh, I don't know. I was drunk. I mighta said somethin’ I didn't mean."

“Oh.”

The crestfallen look on Eric's face wormed its way into Curley's rusty conscience, and once again he was compelled to do something he didn't want to do.

"Look, I'm sorr--uh--” Curley sighed heavily as he shifted his weight to a different foot and put a hand on his hip. “What I mean is, I really don't know how to get along with them guys. But, you know, if you--well, I mean, if you really want me to, I guess...I guess I can try." He scratched his neck, looking down and away as he grimaced. When his eyes dragged themselves back up to look at Eric, he saw that the man was grinning like an overjoyed child. Curley barely had enough time to process what he'd just agreed to before Eric grabbed him by the arm, speed walking toward the already lit bonfire in the distance.

"Well, hold on now--ugh--" Curley protested, nearly tripping in an attempt to keep up with Eric's pace. " _Stop!_ "

Eric stopped abruptly, still grinning.

"Yeah? What's wrong?"

"I g--I ca--" Curley sighed harshly, crossing his arms as he glared at the floor to his left. "...I can't keep up when you walk like that. I got--" His mouth twisted into a sideways pout. "I got little legs."

"Oh," Eric oh'd.

"Oh," Curley oh'd, sarcastically.

"I'll slow down. Sorry, Curley."

Eyebrows raised in smug approval, Curley smiled. They started walking at his pace.

"Good. You didn't call me ‘li'l man.’ I swear I woulda punched you if you did." Eric snickered at that, lightly slapping Curley's upper arm with the back of his hand.

"Did you want me to?"

Curley cackled, playfully punching Eric's arm in response. They chatted that way for a while, but the closer they got to the group, the more anxious Curley became. When they were mere feet away from the bonfire, Curley stopped so abruptly that he had to grab Eric's arm to keep him from walking, letting go when Eric turned around.

"Hey, listen," Curley's breathing sped up and he scraped his teeth against his lower lip. "Listen, Eric, I don't think I can do it after all." Eric's concerned frown only made his anxious heartbeat worsen.

"Why not?"

Curley lowered his voice, eyes darting around to check for any nosy eavesdroppers. "'Cause, here's the thing--here's the thing. I don't like these guys. An' they don't like me. An' that's how it is. Why you wanna force it? I don't like these guys. I never known how to talk to 'em. They just--they just make me mad. Why force it?" Curley scratched the top of his head, getting more agitated by the minute.

"Well...you said it last night, you wanna be nicer. I just thought--"

"Ugh. UGH." Curley threw his hands in the air in frustration. He started pacing back and forth, hands on his hips. "You're right. I said it. I said it. I'm just the same as I always been. I gotta...I gotta do it, if I can just..." He trailed off, mussing up his hair in frustration.

"...I dare you to come?"

Curley heaved a great sigh of relief, feeling like an overfilled balloon relieved of all its pressure.

"Well, damn. I can't back out now it's a dare."

Eric smiled that slow, comforting smile again, the one that seemed to reach his eyes before his lips. Together they walked the remaining short distance to the bonfire, silently and, on Curley's end, anxiously.

When they were finally there, the group went silent almost immediately. Curley bristled, fully prepared for someone to reject his presence there, however subtly. It was George who spoke first, inadvertently lighting the fuse.

"Well I'll be damned. You actually brought 'im." George sounded more surprised than anything, but Curley swore he saw a hint of derision and annoyance in his face. It was barely there, but it was just enough to set him off.

"Yeah, I'm here. You got a problem with that?" Curley took a threatening step forward, fingers already twitching at his sides in anticipation.

"No. Just surprised you're here, is all. Figured you hated talkin' to us common folk." George quipped as he smiled politely, but Curley was convinced there was something derisive in his tone.

"Huh," Curley grunted, lips turning up in a wry, arrogant grin that was so hateful it was almost a grimace. "Tha's what I thought."

"What’d you say?"

George squinted at Curley, all pretenses of politeness completely gone from his face. Curley saw Slim put a hand on George's shoulder and murmur "No," but it didn't make George's glare any less intense.

"I _said_ , 'Tha's what I thought.'" He took a few more sauntering steps toward George, rolling his shoulders back, catlike, predatory. "You ain't so tough now, not with that moron friend o’ yours dead in the ground. It's a good thing you did it, really. Guy was just a crazy bastard, no good to nobody." George sat up slowly, a burning rage growing in his eyes. Slim sat up with him, whispering urgently and unintelligibly as he struggled to stop George from moving any further.

"You say that again now. I dare you." George's voice was quiet, each word meticulously measured through gritted teeth. Curley watched him grow more and more frustrated as he unsuccessfully tried to jerk himself away from Slim's arms, and Curley relished it.

" _Say it again_!" he roared, shaking with the effort it took to yell so loud.

Just as Curley was about to egg him on one final time, he felt gentle arms cage him in, one firmly restraining his torso while the other slid over his mouth.

"That's enough, Curley," Eric murmured into his ear. Curley's body grew a mind of its own as his muscles relaxed slowly, though not completely. He tried to jerk his shoulders and head free, but it only made Eric hold him tighter. "That's enough," he murmured again, and this time Curley went limp in his arms. He yanked Eric's hand off his mouth, glaring at the dirt in front of his feet.

"...Get offa me," Curley mumbled.

"You calm?"

"Yeah.  _Get off._ "

"Alright."

They sat down as George and Slim started to leave, with Eric mouthing an embarrassed "sorry" to an agitated George as Curley put his head in his hands. George nodded before he left, presumably accepting Eric's apology despite still sneering at Curley. Eric rubbed Curley's back reassuringly, hoping he wouldn't start any other fights. He understood now why people didn't like Curley, but part of him also saw the reason why he was so mean, and that part won over. _He's just scared_ , Eric thought to himself, _he's just...scared._

Curley swatted away Eric's arm, taking his head out of his hands to bark out an order.

"Booze. Now."

Eric handed him the bottle of tequila he'd brought, watching in amazement as Curley angrily gulped down about a fifth of it. He gulped it down so fast that a little bit of it trickled from the corner of his mouth down to his chin. Eric had a split-second mental image of himself licking it off, but he pushed it down. When Curley finally shoved the bottle back into Eric's hands, Carlson whistled.

"Damn, Curley. You sure can put 'em down."

Curley wiped the rivulet of tequila off his chin and smirked.

"Damn right I can."

Carlson laughed his gravelly belly laugh, which sent Whit's friend, Jackson, into a slow crescendo of laughter right after he mimicked it. Soon Eric, Whit, and Curley joined in, feeding off one another's laughter.

"Oh man--" Jackson slapped Carlson's back-- "you get me every time with that damn laugh. Sounds like--sounds like Santa Claus got his nuts stepped on."

"Oh yeah?" Carlson grinned, throwing pebbles at Jackson, who raised his arms to shield himself. "Tha’s rich, comin' from a guy who sounds like a dyin' hyena."

" _Ho ho ho! Merry Christma_ \--ow! Ow!" Jackson protested as Carlson locked him into a noogie, letting go after Jackson apologized through loud snickers.

"Oh man," Carlson coughed. "I don't know how you do it, Eric. How you been friends with this guy all your life? I barely known him three months an' I already wanna _strangle_ the sumbitch." Eric's eyes squinted in silent laughter as he took a swig of tequila.

"I 'unno. I guess I just got stuck with 'im. You know what they say. Get 'em while they're young."

"Hey! I resent that statement!"

"Did y’all know his last name’s Jackass?" Eric grinned mischievously at Jack. Whit nearly spit out his beer, though some of it managed to get through to his nose. As Whit coughed and wiped his nose on his sleeve, Jack pounded on his back and grinned at Eric.

"Well, now you're just bein' mean!"

"Nahhh. Mean would be tellin' about the time in fifth grade when you--"

"AAAAAAHHHHH!!!" Jackson scrambled over to the other side of the bonfire and took Eric into a headlock, covering his mouth. "Don't you say it! You said you'd carry it to your grave-- _ew_!" Jackson yanked his hand off Eric's mouth to wipe it on his pants, then released him completely when Eric licked the other arm. " _Ewww_ , no fair!"

Eric snickered, but turned his head when he heard a choking sound next to him. It was Curley, wiping tequila-snot from his nose, hacking and crying from what Eric assumed was both laughter and pain.

"Oh--ahahah!--ahah--are--ahahar you okay?"

"Fuck you, it ain't funny!" Curley squeaked, giggling uncontrollably.

"You--" Eric wheezed, "you need water? 'Cause we don't got any--”

“I fuckin' hate you,” Curley coughed, weakly slapping Eric's arm. When the laughter finally died down, the group went around telling embarrassing stories--Jackson's included--interspersed with idle laughter. By the end of it, they were all veritably drunk, so much so that Whit had to stop in the middle of a joke.  
  
"So I sssays to him, I says--" Whit slurred, then paused to frown in confusion. "Whaddid I say?"  
  
"I unno," Jackson shrugged. "I'zz your story."  
  
"Oh, well, I don'mmm member." Whit swayed a little, so Jackson steadied him with a helpful hand on his back, only to lean heavily on him a few seconds later. They both toppled off their logs, laughing weakly. Whit sat up slowly, helping Jackson up as best he could.  
  
"Hhhey,” Whit slurred, “I got an idea. Le'szzzh play tru--truth or dare." The rest of the group murmured their assent, but Curley put his arms on his thighs and stared.  
  
"What aaarrre you, five? Is eb--ever’body here _five_?"

“I ain't,” Carlson chirped, ignoring Whit and Jackson's booing as he heaved himself up and walked away. “I'mmmm too old for this szhit. Good night.” Curley pointed a hand at Carlson, raising his eyebrows at Whit in an “I told you so” expression.

“See? He guh...geh…gyehts it.”

“Awwww, c’mon Currrrley, you never le--hic--let us have no fun,” Whit whined. Curley squinted at Whit, partly in protest, and partly to focus his eyes.

“Whaa? That ain't fuckin’ true, man. I c--I can have fun. I’m loadsa fun. I'm fun. I can be fun, righ-right Eric?” Eric was, at that moment, curling up on the log bench and putting his head on Curley's lap. He yawned.

“Sure. Super fun. Loadsa fun.”

“See?” Curley smirked smugly.

“Prove it then, Misser Fun Pants,” Whit snickered as he clumsily clinked his empty beer with Jackson's.

“Well, fine! I'll--I’ll play. I pick Dare. Whaddayou got?”

“All right,” Whit started. He put down his beer and rubbed his hands together. “I dyare you toooo lllllick your finger an’ stick it in his ear.” Whit nudged his head toward Eric, grinning mischievously.

“Easy.” Curley stuck his index finger in his mouth, making sure to get it gratuitously wet before wiggling it in Eric's ear.

“Wh--what--ewww! Did jyou just--” Eric desperately pawed at his ear to try and clean the saliva from it.

“Heh hehhhh, yeah.”

“Aw, come on, Curle--”

“He made me do it!” Curley pointed at Whit, grinning.

“Hgghhhey, I didn't _make_ you do _nothin_. I jusss’ dyared you. You coulda assshaid no,” Whit slurred, using his beer to point at Curley.

“ _Bullshit_ , you know I _never_ back down from a dare. I ain't no yella bellied cah--canary.”

“Anyways. I do berlieve,” Eric chimed in, eyes closed and eyebrows raised. “It’s somebody elrse’s turn..”

“Whose turn’s it now? Jackson?”

“Sure.” Jackson shrugged, nearly falling over again. “Ir’ll go wid dare.” Curley squinted at Jackson for some moments before replying again.

“Damn, I got nothin'. Whit, you do the...the thing,” Curley waved his hand in a “you know what I mean” motion. Whit proceeded to raise his eyebrows at Jack and waggle them enthusiastically as he grinned.

“God damn it…” Jackson put his face in his hands and groaned. “I know what yer gonna say. Juz say it. Oh, sweet Chrizht.”

“Darer you to do the Pretty Princess dance frorm when you wazz in primary!” Whit laughed uncontrollably as Jackson clung to him and laugh-sobbed, hiding his face behind Whit’s back.

“Please, Whid, hahmm mercy…”

“Never!”

“Fiiiiine, you know what?” Jackson turned to face Whit, almost toppling over in the process. “Furck you. I'm gornna do it. I'm gornna...gornna do it and I'm gornna have fun.” Proudly, he turned again so he was looking across the bonfire, toward Eric and Curley. Jackson swayed his hips, flailed his arms, and caught his balance multiple times as he drunkenly shouted the song, and when he was done, the group was caught in a fit of giggles once again. He sat down, glaring at Curley with mischief in his eyes.

“Ahright. You let him dare me, now I godda geh you back.”

“I ain'd scared.”

“Dare ya to...to…” Jackson glared some more, slack jawed in thought. “Dare ya to kiss ssssEric. Fer _ten seconds_ . With _tongue_.”

“Wh--”

“ _Dare_ ya!” Jackson cackled, attempting to high five Whit. Both of them missed.

Curley crossed his arms and bit his upper lip. What the hell? How was he supposed to react? He didn't want to back down from a dare, but he could already feel the heat rising up to his face and the tension making its way to his fists. _This wasn't how this night was supposed to go._

“Well? You chicken?”

“Hell no!”

“Bawk-bawk- _bagawwwk_!” Jackson and Whit folded their arms and flapped them, making chicken noises until Curley finally snapped.

“ _Fine_! I'll do it. Christ…” When Curley turned to face Eric, he could tell Eric was as nervous and embarrassed as he was.

“You sure?” Eric muttered, leaning in so Whit and Jackson wouldn't hear. “I could make up some kind of excuse--”

“Nah, le's just get this over with,” Curley spat.

“Alright, I guess I'll just...um--” Eric leaned in hesitantly, awkwardly. Curley glared at him, but it looked more fearful than anything else.

“ _Oh, for god's sakes_ \--” Curley yanked Eric forward by the shirt and brought their lips together, though it could hardly be called a kiss. Eric frowned, eyes still wide open.

“Uh, Curley--” Eric mumbled, words distorted by Curley's mouth on his.

“Withh tongue!” Jackson jeered.

“Ugh…” Curley sighed, eyes still closed, just barely loud enough for Eric to hear. Eric took the hand he wasn't leaning on and stroked the back of Curley's hand, resting his forehead on Curley's.

“ _Relax,_ ” he murmured, calmly, smoothly, though his heart was beating a mile a minute. “ _Let_ me.” When he felt Curley's breath start to steady, he went for it. He kissed Curley softly a couple of times, pressing closer when he felt Curley pulling away.

“ _Eight_ Mississippi,” Jackson's voice called from far away, muted under the rush of sensation and emotion. Eric bit Curley's bottom lip, but gently, always gently. He felt Curley start to lean in, heard Curley breathe out in what might have been a whimper or a moan.

“Uhhh  _ten_ Mississippi…”

Eric licked Curley's lips. A request. An invitation. He heard a shuffling as Curley moved closer to him.

“ _Six_ Mississippi…”

Curley parted his lips, gasping when Eric's tongue touched his. His fingers twitched under Eric's. His tongue moved and met with Eric's, over and over, exploring, enticing. His free hand found its way to Eric's shoulder, resting there delicately for half a second before desperately clutching Eric's shirt.

“ _Three_ Mississippi…”

 _Was Jackson's voice always that quiet?_ Curley mused.

Eric wrapped his hands around Curley's hips, yanking him closer, breathing erratically. Curley gasped. Since when did being manhandled send a shiver down his spine?

“Aaaand done! ...Boys. Boys!”

Both of them jolted back into reality, with Curley being the one to shove Eric away roughly.

“Oh, I didn't hear you,” Curley mumbled after wiping his mouth.

“Pfft. Anyway me an’ Whid's gornna head to bed now. G’nigh lover boyyyyys,” Jackson slurred, snickering as they stumbled away.

Eric stayed behind, frozen in disbelief. He guessed that was what Curley was feeling too, because when he turned to look at him, Curley was staring into space. Eric's heart was still beating like crazy, and though he was happy, he hoped this hadn't ruined their budding friendship. He was just about to apologize when Curley snapped his head to the side to look at him and poke him in the chest.

“You never mention this again. You hear me? This didn't happen.”

And although Eric's heart sunk at the thought, he nodded and shuffled back to his bunk.

  
_This night did not go as planned, at all._


	4. Touching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to Slow Hands on repeat while writing the latter part of this chapter, lol. Enjoy.
> 
> P.S. if anyone wants my Ericurl Hell playlist, I can link it to you, haha.

Eric awoke the next morning with a hangover from hell and a nagging feeling that something important had happened the night before. He spent most of the day doing his work as usual, with the occasional coworker yelling at him to "wake the hell up before you get a bag o' this heavy shit throwed at you." At the end of the day, he was still racking his brain for what he was missing, until he sat down to play cards with Candy. Candy, whose dog came to greet him. Candy, whose dog came to greet him, with enthusiastic kisses.   
  
_ Kisses. _   
  
_ Oh god. _   
  
"...Eric? Son, you're messin' up my cards."   
  
"Oh! Sorry." Eric took to straightening out the folded cards, though he let some of them face Candy's way in his distraction.   
  
"I can see your cards--"   
  
"Oh, damn it--" Flustered, Eric let the cards flutter down to the table as he rested his head in his hands.   
  
"You got somethin' you wanna talk about, son?"   
  
Eric's head snapped back up.   
  
_Yeah, I kissed my crush on a dare and now I think he might really hate me, and maybe my friends know I'm a queer now. I wanna die. I might_  actually  _die._   
  
"Uh, well, not...not really."   
  
"Come on, son. You know you can tell me anything."   
  
_ God, how do I say it? _   
  
"I...well, I uh, I kissed a...girl."   
  
Candy laughed.   
  
"Ain't that a _good_  thing?"   
  
"I dunno. It was on a dare."

Eric pulled off his cap and fidgeted with it, leaving his blond hair tousled and unruly. He didn't seem to have the energy to fix it, so Candy got up and smoothed it into place. Old brown eyes looked into young green ones, both pairs concerned and curious. Candy pulled up a box to sit down next to Eric, putting his hand on Eric's shoulder.

"So what's so bad about that?"   
  
"I dunno. I think she hates me now."   
  
"Why?" Candy let his hand rest in his lap as he listened.   
  
_Because she's a he and he's probably disgusted_.   
  
"I think...she maybe thinks I'm playin' with her feelings?"

“Are you?” Candy's eyebrows raised quizzically.

“N-No! O’ course not! I just, you know, I don't want her to get the wrong idea.” _Well, that one's_ half _true_.

“So you ain't got feelings for this girl?”

“I...no.”

Candy sighed, scratching his stump wrist absentmindedly.

“Well, I ain't got no right to tell you how to live, but I think you might wanna tell her the truth. I think tha's the right thing to do.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Candy. Actually, I think I'll go an’ clear it up right now--” Eric stood up to leave, but stopped in his tracks once he saw who was in the doorway.

“Eric.”

“Curley.” Eric stared in horror.

“Come with me. I gotta talk to you about something.”

Eric looked back at Candy. Candy shrugged.

“Sure,” Eric said.

Curley immediately turned on his heel, walking in the direction of his house. It took Eric a few seconds to get his nervous feet to follow, but he caught up in just a few strides. Curley didn't seem to want to say anything until they were well out of earshot, despite Eric's rambling attempts at small talk.

“...But then when you think about it, really, sometimes when you cut ‘em into squares, sometimes it's better than French fr--”

“Eric.”

“...ies yes? Yeah?” Eric stopped in his tracks and bit his lips into a tight line as Curley pivoted to face him.

Curley took a deep breath through his mouth. His eyebrows lowered in a frown that made it seem like he wanted to say something serious.

“...I'm inviting you to play cards with me.”

It took Eric several seconds to process the request through his anxiety-addled fog.

“Oh. Well...okay. So we're not gonna talk about last n--”

“What did I say?”

“Right.”

Curley made a sweeping gesture toward his house, eyebrows raised in annoyance. They spent a few more minutes stuck in a loop of awkward small talk, which eventually gave way to a meaningful conversation.    
  
Eric learned Curley was an only child, raised by his dad.    
  
Curley learned Eric was raised by his grandparents after his parents died in an accident.    
  
Eric learned that Curley liked the sunset better than the sunrise.    
  
Curley learned that Eric liked to sing.

By the time they got to the house, they were laughing about another one of Jackson's misadventures, and as Curley shut the door behind them, Eric thanked God for the shift in mood.

“Come on,” Curley said, his voice shaking with the last of his laughter. “We're gonna play gin rummy.”

Curley took a right, past the living room and into the dining room, sitting down at one side of the table while Eric sat in front of him.

“So, let's talk stakes.” Curley smirked mischievously as he took the deck of cards on the table and shuffled it.

“Stakes?”

Eric's confusion only made Curley's smile wider, more wicked.

“What, you think I'd just let you play a boring game with no stakes? You gotta have somethin’ to lose or it ain't no fun.”

Eric sighed and laughed, resting his arms on the table.

“O’ course. What stakes, then--”

“Loser's gotta do whatever the winner says.”

 

\--

 

Several tantrums and rematches later, Curley was finally in the lead. He decided to end it there, much to Eric's dismay.

“A- _ hah _ ! I win. You gotta do it.”

Eric groaned. Begrudgingly, he started to unbutton his shirt. He was one button in before he dropped his arms and whined.

“Well, can I at least keep my shoes on? There's broke glass and stuff out there.”

“Sure you can. Even better. It'll make you look stupid.”

Eric rolled his eyes, beginning to unbutton his shirt again.

“Can’t get any stupider’n running naked alla way back to the bunkhouse.” Eric redid the last button he'd undone, fiddling with it as he made one final appeal. “Come on, can't you give me some other kinda punishment?  _ Anything _ . Anything else.”

“Oh, quit your whinin’. Do I gotta do it  _ for _ you?”

Eric narrowed his eyes at Curley. He redid another button.

“Why, you-- _ I saw that _ _!_ ”

“Can't make me do it if you can't catch me!”

Eric bolted for the living room, but not before Curley let out a war cry, grabbing a chair to throw at him. It missed his back by a sliver, but managed to hit his leg with just enough force to make it buckle. Eric let out a rather undignified yelp, falling to the floor. Before he knew it, Curley was on top of him, making swift work of his shirt.

“Waitwaitwait, I can do it myself!”

Eric started to get up, but Curley shoved him down with one hand.

“ _ Stay _ ,” he snarled, keeping his hand on Eric’s chest until Eric nodded.

 

_ Oh god, this is bad. _

 

“ _ Up _ .”

Eric sat up, trying to keep his expression in check as Curley slid his shirt off, running his hands down Eric's arms throughout. All the angry momentum seemed to have evaporated from Curley's movements. Eric held his breath. Was that lust he saw in Curley's eyes, or just determination?

Curley's hands moved down to Eric's jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them, never breaking eye contact. His breath came out in quiet huffs and his hands stayed still; his eyes softened into what Eric could only assume was uncertainty. Eric did him the favor of slipping his legs out from under Curley's, to finish taking his jeans off. Their faces were close now, close enough to kiss, but neither of them did.

Eric slipped Curley's suspenders off his shoulders, slid a hand under Curley's shirt. He bent down to kiss Curley's neck, heard a heavy sigh and felt a loss of tension that told him it was okay to go further.

“Your turn. Shirt off,” Eric murmured into Curley's ear, carrying a calm, effortless dominance in his tone.

Curley lifted his arms and wriggled out of his shirt, gasping when Eric pulled him into his lap. Eric went in for a kiss, but Curley pulled back right before their lips could touch. Their foreheads knocked together.

“Don't,” Curley said. He wouldn't look Eric in the eye.

Eric let out a long and heavy sigh, pulling away as he searched the floor for his shirt. Curley yanked him back by the waist.

“I didn't say ‘ _ stop everything _ ,’ dumbass. Just don't kiss me on the lips.”

Eric searched Curley's eyes for any hint of that vulnerable uncertainty he'd seen before, but it was gone, replaced with a cold determination that both excited and disappointed him.

“It’s really fine?”

“Yeah,” Curley said before kissing up from Eric's chest to his neck. “We're just blowin' off steam, right?” He licked a small path up Eric's neck as his thumbs made small circles on his hips, and Eric cursed himself for being so weak.

“Yeah, of course.”

“You wanna move this to the bed?”

Curley gently bit Eric’s earlobe, grinding their hips together slowly. Eric's breath caught in his throat.

“You ready for that?”

Curley's eyes narrowed for a moment before he spoke.

“No, you're right. We can finish it here.”

“Good choice.”

Eric slid his hands down Curley's back into his underwear, kneading his ass. Curley moaned. His fingers found Eric's hair. Eric's teeth found Curley's shoulder. Eric licked the spot where he'd bitten Curley as one of his hands moved to Curley's front. He pulled the waistband down, wrapping his hand around Curley's cock. Curley moaned louder as Eric's hand moved, burying his face in the crook of Eric's neck and gripping his shoulders.

When Eric's other hand left his ass, Curley whined in confusion. He opened his eyes to see Eric touching himself, and as hard as he tried to feel disgusted, the sight of Eric's thumbs circling both their heads in tandem made Curley's dick even harder. Closing his eyes again, he brought a shaking hand down to Eric's erection. Eric exhaled harshly at the contact, letting his hand fall as Curley slowly took over.

It felt different to do it to someone else, Curley noticed. Eric was hard and soft at the same time, and hot, god, so  _ hot. _

“Faster,” Eric said breathlessly. His voice made a shiver run straight down Curley's back.

Curley felt both their hands pick up the pace. Before he knew it, he was warning Eric that he was almost there, and Eric's fingers were yanking Curley's head back to kiss him on the lips as he came. The kiss was hot and wet and sloppy and somehow  _ hungry _ , and Curley couldn't help but wrap himself around Eric as he kissed back.

Before Curley could even complain that Eric broke his promise, though, Eric laid him down and pulled Curley's underwear off completely before doing the same to his own.

“Wait, what're you…oh!”

Curley's vision blacked out as Eric went down on him. Soon he was hard again, so hard that it hurt. He struggled to find something to hold onto, clawing at the hardwood floor behind his head as he let out moan after moan, high-pitched and hoarse and erratic and loud. He felt the palm of Eric's hand playing with his balls and nearly screamed; he heard a vague pounding noise and realized it was his own hand violently slapping the floor in desperation. When he came, it was overwhelming, unlike any orgasm he'd ever felt before, and Eric swallowed it all.

When Curley got the rest of his senses back, he looked up to see an exhausted Eric still breathing heavily, sitting between Curley's legs. Curley felt a strange wetness on his face and realized at some point during the second time, he'd cried. As he wiped away the tears, it suddenly hit him what they'd done. He let his arms float back to the floor. They felt unreal.

“...Get out,” Curley muttered, staring blankly at the end table leg next to him.

“What?”

“Get yourself clean, and get the  _ fuck _ outta my house,” Curley spoke through gritted teeth.

“I...okay. Good night.”

Curley laid there, hearing the sounds of running water as Eric cleaned himself up, then the sound of fabric as Eric got dressed, then the sound of the door as Eric left.

The second that door closed, Curley stared at the ceiling and sobbed.

  
He slept in the guest room that night.


End file.
